


Candles of Day and Night

by Detavot



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon - Manga, Gen, Manga & Anime, Metaphors, i like how it turned out though, let's see if anyone can guess who the characters are, this is some sort of an experiment for my writing...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 00:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16170059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detavot/pseuds/Detavot
Summary: The Night's shoes clicked and his bells jingled, dressed in the deepest blues and inkiest blacks.The Sun's gold shone and his purple robes caught the skies, his grin a brilliant light.They were both fools.





	Candles of Day and Night

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still trying to work out what exactly I am going to do with my life so please bear with me (^^;)
> 
> This is a draft I've been working on for... idk a few months. I've wanted to write a lot of stuff like this for a while now. Your feedback would be much appreciated!

    The air was crisp, as fragile as the slight balance of a tipping glass vase. I breathed in greedily before the invisible audience I knew I had, I breathed in before the glass finally hit the floor and broke into a million, irreversible tragedies. I let out my breath as I smiled, the lie biting into me as the small glass shards would. Lying in order to serve, deceiving in order to protect. My steps were bloodied, my hands were scarred.

    The glass shone brilliantly as they littered the floor, beautiful in their chaos.

    The bluest of blues were reflected in them.

    Allow me to tell you a tale. It is of goodness and wickedness, it is of truths and lies, it is of life and death, it is about mortality and immortality. The deepest reds and the darkest blues, the powerful purples and the glittering golds. The rusted crowns, the hollow bells. The emptiest laughter and the fullest hatred. Vengeance and games, peace and offerings. There are many things in this world that are blasphemy and yet, as I now speak, I cannot think of a single punishment for such deeds…

     ~~(I find myself wondering about my friend’s words…)~~

    This tale never had a start, and this tale shall never have an end. It is the story of Gods, forever immortalized in us in Their image. I take a deep breath as I start, a smile gracing my face. It is not so painful this time.

    The SUn was not shining brilliantly. When a cry echoed off the walls of glittering gold and soft silk, the sun was not shining as brilliantly as people would think. The cry was not loud or proud, either. It was only the cry of a newborn babe, a pathetic scream with the pain of coming to life. The babe was soon forgotten, living in isolation with the sun shining behind it.

    The Sun began showing interest in the boy dressed in purple and decorated in gold, began marvelling at how the boy’s grins could match its light. The darkest clouds hid at the sight of him, the boy forever blessed by the Sun. How his skin glowed so warmly in the light, how his hair reflected the light so naturally and beautifully, how his presence boiled and purified the blood of sin and wickedness. The boy eventually rivaled the Sun, and the Sun gave its throne to him willingly. A new Sun rose.

    The new Sun, though, was awfully bored. He grew tired of the clouds shying away from him, he grew irritated at the never-changing color of light blue.

    “Fire,” the Sun said, shining with his grin as he made me paint the sky red. I knew I should never be standing beside him, I knew I was so undeserving of being equal to him… I was ready to give myself to him at a moment’s notice, like a moth drawn to his light. My fire was only lent to me, just as my life was. As I stood beside him and painted his blues into the liveliest reds, I was amazed at the sheer beauty of the color I had once despised. The color of life that I had wasted for so long… It seemed as if they were forgiving me. But I knew that was not the case, I would never be forgiven for such horrendous acts… Though, I will admit to you alone, it was liberating to pretend like everything could be alright…

    The Sun lost its warmth with the loss of a fat little star. We reached out to the galaxies far beyond to catch it, to see it one last time. I painted the sky with the most vivid reds and the Sun froze the crust itself.

    The star was forever gone, but Night had come in its place.

    Night was the deepest blue and the inkiest black we had ever seen. The Night muted my fiery red with the cold emptiness, and yet the silver light he shone painted to most beautiful canvas. The bells on his hat bounced with his every step, the frown on his face ever so empty… A walking tragedy, a walking fool. Perhaps the silver would make him worthwhile, he’d say, but no grace would ever be shown upon him. Not on one who imitated the Sun in such a pathetic manner.

    There was a lovely pink on the horizon at times, just when the Sun took over and Night retreated with his hollow bells. Graceful in a way the silver could never imitate, eloquent in a way red could only be passionate, muted in order to prepare humans for the golden Sun.

    But…

    The pink began to retreat into the corner. The golden Sun shone brighter and the bells jingled louder.

    “The liar’s candle only burns ‘till dawn,” Night said. His heeled shoes clicked on the marble floors and his bells rocked merrily as he spun, contradicting the frown on his face and the pitch black of his robes. “Burns, burns, burns until dawn! But it was lit, if only once, do not avert your gaze! The silver denies, deviates!”

    “Then shine gold,” the Sun replied. “Reawaken with dawn, Fool, and do not light the candle!”

    “Imitations, Fool only sees! From where do you shine Gold? Tell me from where you get Gold, tell me from where you take your light.”

    “Shed the black and see only blue, light your way without candles!”

    “Only fools avoid Dawn, only fools fail to see in the dark.”

    The Night and Sun argued every day, every minute, every second. What they both failed to see was the fact that they were both fools.

    The Night cackled, his shoes clicked, his bells jingled. The Sun frowned, his gold was pressed together, his purple robes were wrinkled. An odd pair they were, fools of different lights. I tried to keep them together with my fiery red, I tried to make them see candles were unnecessary so long as the red guided them both back home.

    The glass vase was taking my red from me.

    I could see the Night, frowning at me with his bells jingling with sorrow. And I could see the Dawn behind me, blowing out the candle and grinning wickedly as the red flowed through.

    “Passionate,” Night said, his tone sombre and yet still clicking his heels together. (His bells still jingled, it could never be helped, but I wanted to rip those bells apart). “It was never going to end another way, oh, oh, my dear passion.”

    “It can,” I said. This was the first time I had spoken with Night.

    “Dawn has come and my candle does not continue to burn. My passion, my passion; the Gold I steal…”

    “Shine silver,” I replied. I smiled and gave him red. “Reawaken with dusk, Fool, and light the candle again.”

    I take another deep breath as my story has come to an end. My red is no longer needed, and I leave candles for them to light their ways… Dawn has come to take me away.

    Before an audience of death, I burn out.


End file.
